


Russian Dolls

by sushicorps (Inclinant)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (Only very lowkey dynamics though), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Family, Feels, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Olympics, Omegaverse, Post-Canon, Slow Burn, a bit anyway, no one dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8735365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inclinant/pseuds/sushicorps
Summary: Official Pyeongchang2018 Livestream:  “...Nikiforov, who is already 29, has defied expectations following his return and continued clinching medals, winning silver at last year’s Grand Prix Finals and European Championships and a bronze at the World Championships. But the Men’s Individual here at Pyeongchang might just be the last stop in a long, decorated career…”  AO Sports Spotlight: “....Nikiforov is scheduled to skate his long-rumoured special routine “History Maker”, said to be choreographed by Nikiforov  (Binary: Alpha) and his ex-student, retired figure skater Katsuki Yuuri of Japan (Binary: Omega). Little is known about Katsuki following the breakup of the pair and his retirement after the 2015 Grand Prix Finals, but it was speculated that Nikiforov and Katsuki might have been b....”  @OfficialViktorNikiforov Sorry. I need a break.





	1. Chapter 1

_Prologue: Pyeongchang 2018_

He feels the strain even before stepping onto the ice and after two simple jumps, it’s worse than he has ever remembered.

 

 

“Oy Viktor! Are y-” Yuri reaches out to grab him, but Viktor just skates pass him and the younger’s voice falters.“...Are you okay- Vi-Viktor!”

 

Viktor just ignores him and heads straight for the edge of the rink.

 

“I’m done,” He nods to the Olympic staff and brushes past his team that’s come running to meet him, concern and shock written into all their eyes. He undoes his skates, slips back into his shoes and grabs his jacket before they can stop him. Behind, Yuri’s just reached the rink edge and he looks visibly shaken even as the coaches turn on him.

 

They understand, Viktor knows, even as he slips back into the maze of corridors beneath the stadium. He just needs to get away from it all, from the crowd, the noise, the announcements overhead, the cold air of the rink and scrape of skates on ice…

 

And the one person that isn’t there.

 

* * *

 

 **Official Pyeongchang2018 Live Stream:** “...Oh this is a surprising development! Viktor Nikiforov of Russia has just left the warm up round after attempting just two jumps. We’re waiting for the official updates from the Olympic staff and Russian team…”

 

 **_@_ ** **olympicchanel**

_Live Updates from PyeongChang 2018 Men’s Figure Skating Individual has Viktor Nikiforov of Russia leaving the Warm Up early…_

 

**_@PyeongChang 2018_ **

_Live Updates for Figure Skating: Men’s Individual_

_We are awaiting confirmation from Russia’s Nikiforov for his participation in Round 2..._

 

 **Olympic ChannelTV:** “...one of the oldest figure skaters to ever come to the Olympics, competing with skaters more than a decade younger than him in one of the most challenging sports...and the Russian crowd knows it. They’re out in full force here in Pyeongchang, cheering their hero on what may just well be his last battle and the disappointment when he left the rink...”

 

 **@NikiforovNews**  
_Viktor Nikiforov pictured leaving early from the Warm Up Round of the Men’s Individual at Pyeongchang 2018 amidst speculation of a potential withdrawal…_

 **@danceonskates @NikiforovNews** _OH NO I HOPE HE IS OKAY!!!!_  
**@ nicolletta119 @NikiforovNews** _Is Viktor withdrawing from the Olympics?!?!?!??!_

 

**@figureskatingRu**

я не знаю русский и хотел бы кто-то положить что-то здесь…

 

 **@NikiforovJFC (Japan Fan Club)** **  
** パイオンチャング _オリンピック_ _LIVE!!!_ ニキフォロフ選手が突然にウォームアップリンクから出...

 **  
@ まり７８** **@NikiforovJFC** えええええええええええええええええ

 **@** **ニキフォロフ** **大ファン @NikiforovJFC** これ本当 ?????????????????

 **@美奈子@NikiforovJFC** 信じられない ｡ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ｡｡ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ｡｡ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ｡

 **@スケトオタ@NikiforovJFC** **** ニキフォロフフフフフフフフフフ･ﾟﾟ･o（ｉДｉ）o･ﾟﾟ･｡

 

**@NikiforovTFC (Taiwan Fan Club)**

韓國冬季奧運會男士花樣滑冰現場 _LIVE:_ 維克托尼基福羅夫退出的可能性現在...

 **@冰上少女心 @NikiforovTFC** 我哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭哭

 **@滑滑冰** **@NikiforovTFC** 難道最後一場也不滑了嗎 QAQQQQQQQQQ

 **@amoeba99 @NikiforovTFC** 心碎 

 **@** **我是馬鈴薯片** **@NikiforovTFC** 我没活下去的理由了！！！

 

 **Official Pyeongchang2018 Live Stream:** “...Nikiforov. who is already 29, has defied expectations following his return and continued clinching medals, winning silver at last year’s Grand Prix Finals and European Championships and a bronze at the World Championships. But the Men’s Individual here at Pyeongchang might just be the last stop in a long, decorated career…”

 

 **AO Sports Spotlight:** “....Nikiforov is scheduled to skate his long-rumoured special routine “History Maker”, said to be choreographed by Nikiforov  (Binary: Alpha) and his ex-student, retired figure skater Katsuki Yuuri of Japan (Binary: Omega). Little is known about Katsuki following the breakup of the pair and his retirement after the 2015 Grand Prix Finals, but it was speculated that Nikiforov and Katsuki might have been b....”

 

**@OfficialViktorNikiforov**

_Sorry. I need a break._

 

* * *

 

The noise of the crowd still sounds in his ears as he crumples against the carpark pillar.

 

“Viktor,” Yakov’s voice is gruff, breathless from where he’d to jog a bit to keep up and disapproving. For some reason, it pisses Viktor off more than usual but he tapers it down.

  
It’s not Yakov’s fault, after all. Just his own.

 

He runs a tired hand through his hair, grimacing a little at how thin the silver blond strands have gotten.

 

“Leave it, Yakov.”

 

“You’ve never been the same since you came back.”

 

“I’m getting too old for this,” Viktor says dismissively, waving away the jab and folds his arms to stare resolutely ahead.

 

Yakov won’t have it and Viktor knows it. He has been training under the other since he was a child, after all. Yakov knows him inside out, but he knows the other too.

 

“ _Excuses,”_ Yakov shoots back harshly. “You never had your heart back into skating. Sure, the younger skaters are scoring higher in their technicals, but there still isn’t anyone out there who can match your artistry.”

 

“There was someone.”

 

“...Vitya.”

 

“Look, you have Yuri, don’t you?” Viktor says as he pushes himself off from the pillar. He’s tired of this, doesn’t want any more of the pity. “Yuri already won Gold at World’s, he’s good enough to be the next top Russian skater, _no,_ the next top skater in the world.”

 

“Vitya, you know just as well as I do that the only reason why Yuri was able to perform so well was because you were there as well.”

 

“Yeah...Yurio does perform best when he’s mad,” Viktor gives a short laugh that can’t quite hide his fondness for the much younger skater. Yuri is so different from Viktor when he was younger, all fire and determination to win where Viktor had just wanted to go with the flow of things, but living for skating all the same.

 

Yakov harrumphs. “He’s still too young, too hotheaded and inexperienced to stand alone on such a stage by himself.”

 

“Yuri is strong. You should believe in him more.”

 

“I do, that’s why I want him to go far and right now, he still needs someone standing before him,” Yakov levels him a severe look and for a moment, it’s like he is fifteen again, fresh from an unexpected gold at his first World Junior Figure Skating Championship despite a late arrival to the sport and suddenly being told that he would be one of the most promising young skaters to come, that he would do great things for the sport-

 

The thing was, no one had ever bothered about him before he won the gold.

 

And Viktor had believed them, taking each silver and bronze as a blow, till there was nothing but gold in his sight. Each achievement came as more and more of a surprise and before he had realised it, he was beginning to live for the surprise until there was nothing left to be surprised about anymore.

 

Until _he_ was surprised.

 

“Vitya, Yuri has always admired you. You are the inspiration to him, to most of our team-” Yakov is still pushing on but Viktor’s long stopped listening.

 

They had already discussed all this leading up to the Olympics anyway. He knows the role that he is supposed to play, the expectations that he has to live up to; it’s never been about him.

 

Hasn’t been for a while now.

 

“I _know!_ ”

 

It comes out far harsher than he had intended and Yakov stops mid-speech, shocked. Viktor just curses under his breath.

 

“I barely got us a gold at the Team Event and my ankle still hasn’t quite recovered from it,” He frowns, testing his ankle a little even as he speaks and wincing a little as the old ache flares up again. It's already the least amongst a long list of more troublesome old injuries. “I’ll be lucky if I land my quads smoothly in the second half later.”

 

“My rank’s been slipping these two years, Yakov. You know it as well. The younger skaters are already catching up. I’m not sure how much more I can take.”

 

Yakov takes a step back and gives him a measured look, expression unreadable.

 

“...Viktor, I don’t know what happened between you and Katsuki, but it’s been two years-”

 

“My break up with Yuuri has nothing to do with this-”

 

“-broken bonds don’t affect people this long-”

 

“And how would you know?!”

 

“...Tell me if I’m wrong, but if Katsuki were here, he would want you to go out there and show the world what you are made of.”

 

“Take a rest.Then come back,” Yakov finishes and turns away to return to the rink, his turned back a silent command. Viktor watches his coach go quietly, slumping against the same pillar, strength bleeding out of his limbs as the indignation fades.

 

_If Yuuri were here…_

 

_“I just want Viktor to be-”_

  
“Viktor!”

 

Viktor jumps, nearly hitting his forehead against a car park sign. That’s definitely not his thoughts talking and he whirls around only to greet...empty air.

 

Then he looks down.

 

It’s a little girl.

 

“Ohh,” Viktor laughs, in part to himself, and drops to one knee. He holds out a hand. “Hello there little one, are you lost?”

 

“Where are your parents-” Viktor moves to look around but quickly falls silent, breath stilling as the girl steps up gingerly to peer up at him and he finds himself lost in his reflection swimming in her startlingly blue eyes. It’s a clear blue that seems so strangely familiar. An inquisitive tilt of her head sends her silvery blonde curls, braided ever so carefully, swinging wildly about her head.

 

“Are you not skating?” The little girl pipes up.

 

Viktor blinks in surprise. Japanese?

 

“I…I don’t know-” He replies, struggling for the words in a language that he hasn’t used for nearly two years now and brushing away the now painful memories that come unbidden along with it.

 

“You’re not...skating?”

 

“I-I’m not-” Viktor takes a breath, trying to figure out how to explain things to the little girl who couldn't be more than three or four. Was she lost? How had she even gotten back here?

 

“O-oh,” She mumbles, face immediately falling and bright eyes welling up, like Viktor had single handedly ruined something like Christmas forever and it feels like terrible blow to the gut.

 

This really isn’t fair at all.

 

He hangs his head. “I’m sorry, did you come to see me skate?”

 

“No!”

 

“...No?”

 

“No! Yes! No, I…” She frowns, puffing out her cheeks in frustration as she tries to find the words. “Anna came with Papa and Papa came here to see you skate!”

 

“...Papa?”

 

“Yes! Papa says you’re the best skater in the whole world!” She tiptoes and throws her arms wide to form a circle, beaming brightly.

 

Viktor laughs. “Does he now?”

 

Anna nods furiously, little fingers curling into the sleeve of his jacket. “Papa is always happy when he sees you skate and Anna wants Papa to be happy!”

 

There’s something about the little girl that centres him, calms him right down to his core.

 

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for a moment, opening them to see Anna’s face scrunched up with the righteous resoluteness of a child, arms folded and all. Instinctively reaching out, Viktor gently draws the girl into his arms, lifting her easily.

 

“You’re a good girl, aren’t you, Anna?”

 

She flips her hair. “Of course!”

 

“Alright,” Viktor chuckles and presses a light kiss to the top of her forehead. “Alright, I’ll skate.”

 

“For you, little one,” He grins, tapping her lightly on the nose. “And your Papa who thinks so highly of me. Now let’s go find someone who can find your Papa, shall we?”

“Okay!”

* * *

Yuuri thinks he might actually die from how fast his heart is thudding in his chest. Seriously. He forces himself to keep still even as he watches the arena staff member walk his little girl to him, taking a deep breath and gulping down the air so forcefully it hurts.

 

Anna brightens the moment she sees him and runs to him eagerly until she sees the expression on his face and she deflates like a balloon.

 

Yuuri winces on the inside but tries to keep his voice suitably strict because he is a good, responsible parent- oh who is he trying to kid.

 

He tries, anyway.

 

“Anna, you can’t run off like that again.”

 

She pouts. “But-”

 

“Anna, we aren’t in Japan anymore…”

 

“B-but...Papa you came all the way here to see Viktor skate and you like seeing him skate so much and when he left the rink you looked so sad and I was so scared that Viktor wasn’t going to skate but then I found him and he says he will-”

 

Yuuri freezes.

 

“...You met...Viktor?”

 

“Yes!”

 

It’s like it's getting harder and harder to breath.

 

“...H-how? Don’t tell me...don't tell me you went backstage?! How did you even find him and where did you meet him and I, you, how-”

 

“Hmmmm,” Anna frowns, little brows furrowed in concentration for a moment before she shrugs and smiles back up at him. “I don’t know! But he was just there!”

 

_Viktor was just….there._

 

Yuuri gives up.

 

“Of course he was, Anna” He says as he picks up his little girl and slides his phone into his jacket pocket. He brushes his fingers through her long silvery blonde hair and presses a gentle kiss to her head. “Of course he was.”

 

“Now let’s go back to our seats, okay? We have the second round of skating to catch.”

 

* * *

 

**@カツドン @OfficialViktorNikiforov**

If it’s you, I believe you can do it.

 

* * *

 

_“And what an incredible show he has put on for us! The crowd is on their feet and cheering wildly for the Russian hero! Sure, he may have turned some triples into doubles in the second half, but he landed the quads beautifully and that step sequence! It’s some truly spectacular skating we’ve witnessed here today. Not a single person in the stadium could look away, I’d assure you! He has captured the hearts of the judges, the audiences here and around the world alike proving today that once again, Viktor Nikiforov truly is a living legend amongst figure skaters!_

  _History has been made here in Pyeongchang 2018 -_ _Congratulations, Viktor Nikiforov!"_

* * *

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My life took a drastically different turn last year, but I've always thought about this fic and wanted to give it some closure. So here I am, with closure.

* * *

 

_Fukuoka, 2021_

 

The edges of the ticket Minami had pressed into his hands the night before is rough, like they’d been cut by hand with clumsy fingers, as if the loose scribbles of the timing and venue in bright purple ink hadn’t been telling enough. Even he, with his fading grasp of Japanese, could tell it had been written by a child.

 

Viktor had never seen the usually energetic skater so quiet before - if he were his coach (and not coach to a certain ungrateful Piletsky who had disappeared to god knows where), he would almost be worried to see Kenjiro Minami so subdued days before the NHK Trophy. Home ground was valuable, after all, especially for skaters like them. That’s probably the reason why Viktor hadn’t rushed after the other for some explanation after he stuck the ticket right in his face and turned to vanish down the corridor.

 

That’s the reason.

 

_“Her name is Anna.”_

 

Or so Viktor tells himself anyway.

 

It had taken a long, anxious walk to find the area from his hotel, then another almost eternity stumbling around the small streets and criss-crossing alleyways while frowning at google maps before he finally comes upon the old skating rink. Stepping through the creaking sliding doors into the still, stale chill of the rink, almost takes him back, back to those days where he took his first few steps on the ice in an old, crumbling rink in the middle of nowhere. It’s the rags to riches story the media loved to spin now, a boy from nowhere to a world famous athlete, but sometimes he thinks back and think he’s never been freer than those first few years stumbling around that old rink.

 

Inside, the wallpaper is faded, and the paint is flaking off the benches, but there is a merry little banner hung over the rink and little rainbow flags fluttering from strings carefully tied overhead. The rink is empty, but there is the faint hubble of children, excited, somewhere down the corridor. There already are a few people in the benches, parents and grandparents, phones and cameras already ready in both hands, primed towards the rink.

 

The old man that stretches out a hand for his ticket frowns at him, gives him a good, long look that Viktor can’t quite read, nor understand, but being baffled is a strange feeling he’s gotten used to so he ignores the other’s scrutiny. At last, with a soft and suspiciously annoyed harrumph, he dumps Viktor’s ticket into a box and waves him through.

 

He moves for the back of the benches, settling on the very edge and folding in on himself. In his hands, the metal back of his phone is slowly growing cold, but he clutches onto it anyway all through as the show starts.

 

It starts off with the youngest children, little kids not more than five or six filing out on the ice in a slightly shaky line. They totter forward, then throw their arms up, shaky hands interlocked. But the smiles on their faces are big and bright on their small frame, even as they begin a simple routine together on the ice, launching themselves up again with bursts of giggles after the occasional accidental stumble.

 

The music is a cheerful piece and there’s a line of grandparents and parents clapping and cheering along to the beat in the stands. He can’t help but smile at the sight, for all that his gaze darkens a little as he looks back to the ice - truth is, Viktor doesn’t know which side of the rink he wishes he was on now.

 

_The thing is, you grow up thinking things will change, but then you find yourself now, standing atop the dreams your younger self once claimed to be everything you ever wanted - you’re supposed to be happy now, but you’re still that kid on the ice, still that man behind the rink walls, still alone._

 

The old man he’d seen at the ticketing booth comes out on the ice as the music stops, ushering the children away to scattered, but enthusiastic applause. He cracks a gruff joke to the group of old grandmothers at the front, laughingly scolds the young lady at the AV booth as a jangled mix of tunes come blasting out of the speakers to a ripple of amusement, and then gives a short introduction to the next act that Viktor catches nothing of save a name.

 

And when the little girl comes out to skate, movements a mixing, melding fluid grace that he recognises all too well, he has to close his eyes because it’s all too much.

 

Like scenes from a past, and a long forgotten wishful future mingling together.

 

_“Her name is Anna.”_

 

* * *

He remains on the bench long after the last of the music dies and the children are collected by adoring grandparents who fuss over them and place fat downy jackets over their costumes. His father calls at one point, lets him facetimes a Makkachin who’s still sulking about Viktor being away even though he is happily growing fatter at his father’s new house in St. Petersburg.

 

The bench is plastic and metal, and in the chill of the rink, the old ache starts in his back again, scarred skin itching with a dull fire. He would stand and stretch, but there’s only him left now in the benches...well, him and her. And the old man who seems to own the rink, looking increasingly surly whenever he looks over Viktor’s way.

 

She’s seated right there, little legs swinging above the ground as she pokes about on her phone. It would be so easy to stand up, to cross the stairs that lay between them like it’s only the few steps down that it is and not the gaping chasm in his mind.

 

The truth is, deep in his heart, Viktor knows.

 

Or at least acknowledged the very high possibility of it all. He’s not an idiot, despite the persona he’s carefully cultivated for himself.

 

At Pyeongchang, amidst the stress and urgency of the moment, he had brushed the thought away. It wasn’t like he could go around assuming every child with the same silvery blond and clear blue eyes was related to him, and the Russian turnout for the event had been quite spectacular. So it was a bit of a stretch, but there was no reason why there couldn’t have happened to be some other couple of similar Slavic colourings who went there with their child who knew Japanese for reasons perhaps due to ancestry or having moved to Japan or something...right?

 

He doesn’t think of the way that Anna’s scent had lingered, like warm sandalwood and the salty sea breeze from memories he had long ago tried to drown in bourbon and wine.

 

So it really isn’t all that hard to guess.

 

But it’s been so long and with that only comes more questions, so he had just closed his eyes to the glaring similarities between their bright blue eyes and blond hair, although hers is now shorter and far darker than he remembers it back in Pyeongchang, now a dustier sort of dirty blond, like he remembers his Alpha mother’s used to be. It’s tied in little pigtails now and they swing happily from the sides of her head.

 

“Papa!” The little girl calls out, voice bright and lilting like a flute, and Viktor’s head shoots up only to see her running to an older man who sweeps her easily into his embrace. By any counts, the man is unremarkable, just like another person on the street, just like any other father, any other omega.

 

 _“Papa,”_ The girl says again, more insistently and then Viktor realises, too late, that she is pointing at him.

 

“...Oh,” The man who wears Yuuri’s face says.

 

Suddenly the air is too sharp, too cold, too thin and Viktor stands, throwing an arm out just in time to steady himself (barely) as his half-asleep legs protest the sudden movement.

 

He can’t breathe.

 

He needs to leave.

 

“Viktor!” Yuuri calls out after him.

 

* * *

 

They wind up sitting side by side on one of the spectator benches, the space between their knees gaping with the silence of six whole years.

 

Yuuri darts looks his way all this while, although he quickly whips his head back to the rink whenever Viktor shifts a little in his direction. The girl, Anna, his….Yuuri’s...Yuuri had settled Anna in the office with the old man - “His name is Nakagawa, he’s her ice skating instructor” - with ice cream and a promise that he won’t take long.

 

There had been so many things he had wanted to say to Yuuri, so many words that he had repeated over and over in his head for this very moment, but here and now, there is only ...nothing.

 

“Uh,” Yuuri speaks up suddenly, the sound of his voice again makes Viktor jolt.

 

“Her name’s...Anna.”

 

“I know,” Viktor shoves his hands further into his jacket pockets, fingers slipping on the rough wool even as he tries to find some purchase. The years are unmistakable on Yuuri’s face, just like they are on his, wrinkles finding their way around his dark eyes and a haggard look set about his jaw.

 

Yuuri opens his mouth, then closes it, teeth nagging at his bottom lip nervously. Then he turns to grab his phone from his briefcase, taps at it frantically and shoves it in front of Viktor.

 

“Like so. The first character means ‘peace’. I...I didn’t want her to stand out even more with a foreign name, especially with her looks, but…”

 

Yuuri looks at him, then at his lap and finally looks away, fingers twitching nervously together in his lap.

 

“I...wanted it to have some relation to her…”

 

He sighs.

 

“....her Alpha father.”

 

“....Oh.”

“Yeah, Yuuko gave me the idea with her triplets.”

 

Yuuri plays with the edge of his faded grey sweater. threading the hem through his thumb and forefinger. The light in the rink is cast grey from the cloudy sky overhead and Viktor steals glances over at Yuuri, snatches glimpses of a broad jaw he used to map out with his fingertips, cheekbones he used to graze with kisses and slightly-chapped lips he used to taste.

 

“Of course, they’re all going by their alternative name readings now but thankfully Anna’s...not that strange a name. Besides, she gets to tell people she’s named after a Disney princess too, even if it’s not the ice one, so that’s nice too. Helps keeps things...and the questions...more normal.”

 

Yuuri is babbling now, and isn’t that a surreal thought? Yuuri, by his side, babbling away with that quiet happy smile of his.

 

“She’s attending a kindergarten in the neighbourhood but I’m trying to send her to an international school next. I just think it will be...easier? For her and...my situation.”

 

“Ah, did I mention? I’m working at a car showroom now. Made sense because I could speak English and lived overseas so, I’m pretty crappy a salesman though haha. But I make enough to keep us here, even with the higher rents and bills. You probably can’t believe it right um….”

 

His hands are together now, fingers lacing again and again with nervousness. There’s a smudge of ink, blue ink, on the ring finger of his right hand. There’s no ring on that finger.

 

“I’ve been teaching Anna English when I can. Minako too. But An’s still not very good. I don’t have a lot of time to spend with her, because...so...so many of our customers come in at night and we get paid based on a commission basis, you know? But uh, I just...thought she might need it, to...you know...talk to you. I never did manage to get the hang of Russian so...”

 

Yuuri’s voice trails away into the silence of the empty rink.

 

“Um...You grew your hair out.”

 

“Ah... yeah,” Viktor twirls an errant strand - distantly, he remembers how much Yuuri had always loved his hair, used to play with the strands when they awoke together in the mornings, because they glinted silver in the sunlight. “I just got too busy to give it a cut I think. Yuri- ah, um, Yuri...o’s schedule is very busy nowadays.”

 

They fall into silence again, lets it linger between them like the past they’re both refusing to bring up. Then Yuuri speaks again.

 

“Are...are you okay?”

 

“It’s a lot to take in.” The steel in his own voice surprises even Viktor and for a split moment, the shock and pain that flickers across Yuuri’s face makes his heart ache, but that’s gone in a moment too.

 

“Yeah…” Yuuri admits, bows his head. His scent is soft, like the daffodils that grew in spring in the cracks of the onsen’s stone walls, like the _sencha_ they used to share in Hasetsu, with light pink sakura petals sprinkled on top. It’s muted with the years, but there’s the scent of the light sea breeze too, the salt singeing his tongue as Viktor presses the taste to the top of his mouth, savours it.

 

It’s a feeling of peace, just out of reach.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“...I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

 

“I know.”

 

His nails slice into his palm, so tightly his hands are clenched. And then Yuuri reaches out hesitantly to lay his hands over his and Viktor hadn’t even realised he was trembling.

 

“...Is this...okay?”

 

He wants to get angry, to take Yuuri by the shoulders and shake him and demand answers, demand to know what on earth drove him to do such a thing, demand to know why.

 

He wants to fall to his knees and beg the other to stop there and stay, stay there where he can see him, stay there just in reach.

 

He wants to scream, to yell, to have this reunion that he has imagined for so long go one of the ways he has seen in his both his dreams and nightmares.

 

He wants, and he wants, and he doesn’t know what he wants anymore.

 

Viktor is just so tired.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that feeling when you’ve cried so much that no tears come out anymore? Yep. Also, truth is Anna orchestrated this entire thing and blackmailed Minami into helping her. She is a terror.
> 
> So, anyway, this will have another 4 chapters - yes, we will learn what happened all those years back, but first, they both need the space to heal, to come to terms with things, to make decisions of their own to move on. I also think I messed up the number of years somewhere but, oh well.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](http://sushicorps.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/sushicorps/)


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